The crew of the Warrior had succeeded in patching up the vessel well enough to get back into the fight.
Gallant was unaware of who was winning the battle so far. His main concern was who would win going forward.
He ordered the helm on an intercept course toward the enemy. It seemed to take forever for the ship to turn and reach the correct course under the straining patched up engines.
It was Warrior’s chance to close in and fire first. They had suffered enough damage—now it was time to inflict some. By the time the ships were back within weapon’s range, Gallant was exhausted. The enemy could launch missiles at any moment and the Warrior would have trouble stopping them.
The Warrior was the first to restore an engine and accelerate toward its opponent, but it was the destroyer that fired first, a plasma burst. The destroyer was back under maneuvering power and turning toward the Warrior.
Round two had begun.
Gallant spoke his concerns out loud, “I'm not letting them get anywhere near Elysium.”
He felt his breath became shallow.
The two ships were within close laser range and exchanging a furious rate of fire.
Finally, the weapons officer reported, “The FASER is charged, sir.”
Roberts reported, “We’re closing in on them fast, sir.”
Gallant ordered, “Standby to fire.”
He knew all the hardships his crew had been through, but they couldn’t hesitate now. Seconds ticked by. The telemetry sensors chirped in the background indicating the range was closing.
He ordered, “Fire.”
The Warrior’s aim was true and the destroyer was hit. At this distance the energy cannon did considerable damage.
A minute later Gallant said, “Give them another.”
The destroyer was hit again by the energy cannon, as well as the plasma weapons, inflicting sufficient damage to reduce the destroyer’s capabilities and performance significantly. Additional shots were striking home and causing chaos on the enemy ship.
The gap between the ships closed, but Gallant knew this was no time to relax—the situation on the Warrior was none too good. There remained the ticklish job of fighting with several weapons out of commission. It was an open question which ship would be the one to strike the fatal blow. He compelled himself to think through a final strategy of his end-game.
He used the enemy’s confusion to get even closer, bringing his lasers and plasma weapons to bear. He wanted to strike a final knockout punch—hoping to hit the destroyer in the center of the ship and crippling its bridge. He ordered a course change that brought the ship’s weapons to best advantage and ordered, “Fire all weapons.”
The plasma and laser beams splashed against the enemy’s hull. One shot struck the enemy’s bridge—rendering it leaderless.
The battle continued in slow motion—its conclusion teetering on a razor’s edge.
The Warrior passed close to Elysium while the destroyer was nearby streaming smoke and wreckage.
Like a boxer who was staggered, but was still full of fight, the Titan destroyer changed course to obtain optimal missile range. Its missile batteries once more operational, the alien ship prepared another blow for the Warrior.
Gallant said, “Energize the FASER.”
Roberts said, “Tango-One looks like they’re getting ready to fire another salvo.”
Gallant looked around his hurt ship—dreading more missiles.
“Quick, before they can launch,” he said. “Fire!”
The Warrior fired one last ‘haymaker’ energy blast—at very close range.
The energy pulse hit a vulnerable spot and penetrated through the Titan’s depleted shields into its nuclear weapon storage compartment.
A star-like brilliance lit up the space where the Titan had once appeared. The enemy warship exploded and disappeared from the view screen leaving nothing more than a debris field.
Everyone on the Warrior’s bridge was absolutely awestruck. It took a full minute for them to absorb the impact of the dramatic event.
We just got lucky!
Then came an overwhelming outpouring of relief and exclamation!
“We got’em!”
“We did it!”
“Victory!”
Gallant addressed the crew over the speaker system, “All hands, this is the Captain. It’s over. The alien ship is destroyed.”
He paused before adding, “I want to congratulate all of you for your courage and perseverance.”
The Warrior, slowly and agonizingly, moved into orbit over Elysium. The upper atmosphere of Elysium still showed residual radiation in the southern hemisphere, but that would not be a significant threat to the inhabited portion of the planet.
Both the ship and the planet would need time to heal.
***
Gallant heard a single rap on his stateroom door before it opened. Commander Julie Ann McCall entered.
He remained seated on the only chair in the semi-dark cabin—only the glow of a single display screen provided illumination. He stopped applying a healing gel over a burn on his bare chest and left shoulder. Physically and emotionally drained, he looked at her and scowled before he reached for his shirt and slipped his arms into it.
“No need for formality—or modesty—with me, Henry,” she said, casting an appraising eye at his athletic build, but also noticing the numerous scars across his torso.
“I would prefer you waited for permission to enter my cabin,” he said, miffed at her cavalier invasion of his privacy. After the Warrior’s grueling struggle for survival, he was in no mood for verbal fisticuffs with the Solar Intelligence Agency (SIA) officer.
“I’ll remember that,” she said, but her wily grin indicated she had no intention of complying.
He didn’t like her sitting on his bunk, even though the accommodations of the cabin were rather limited. The tiny stateroom consisted of only the bare necessities, a desk at the head of the room with a virtual view screen to monitor all aspects of the ship’s status and condition, a two-by-one meter bed—too short for Gallant, but he made do—a storage locker under the bunk for his uniforms, shoes, and personal items; a single chair—which Gallant occupied—and a folding stool that pulled out from the wall, which he pointed to, implying it was for her to use.
However, she remained seated on the edge of his bunk.
“What can I do for you, Commander?” he asked sternly.
He wondered . . . Which game will she try this time—coquettish or professional?
Her grin vanished. “I want your assessment of this ship’s ability to continue our mission to the Gliese star system.”
Gallant’s demeanor changed and became more thoughtful and energetic. Mentally, he reassessed the ship and streamed through the myriad of ills and concerns he was already aware of, to consider what he should discuss with the SIA agent. Only minutes earlier, he had gone to his office safe and pulled out his orders—read and then reread them. He had also finished detailing the medical treatment options for his wounded crew members. The excellence of the medical center included a series of glass encasements in which the patient were floating in a bath of rich nutrients and drugs to promote their recovery. He felt fortunate there would be no funeral services to perform. The damage to the ship however, was extensive, but the preliminary report on spare parts and repair schedule was promising. He wanted to go to Elysium and ask for assistance—as well as for personal reasons—yet, he couldn’t simply dismiss McCall’s concerns. He found the situation bothersome. He accessed the computer console and pulled up both the ship’s orders and the AI damage control status report.
Reluctantly he said, “I’ll give you a briefing,” though he was unsure whether the SIA agent had a hidden agenda. He began rattling off a list of the ship’s operational damage and personnel issues.
“As for our mission plan,” Gallant added, “we will be delayed perhaps two to four months.”
She stood up and complained, “But our orders . . .�
�
“Admiral Collingsworth has given us a daunting challenge. Our mission is divided into two phases. The first was to rendezvous with the Achilles task force to reinforce and resupply the Elysium bases while we refitted the Warrior. Well, we arrived on station just in time to intervene on behalf of Elysium, but where is the Achilles?”
Her consternation was evident. “The disposition of Achilles doesn’t change our mission.”
He pondered his orders and considered their ramifications under the new circumstance. If he had rendezvoused with the Achilles, he would have placed himself under Anton Neumann’s command. They had served together aboard the Repulse as midshipmen, but their rivalry had not diminished since then.
McCall said, “I’m sure the Achilles will be along eventually. I’m more concerned about the second phase of the Warrior’s orders to disrupt the Titan war capacity by spying, intriguing, and sabotaging the Titan fleet at their home planet in the Gliese-581 star system—a journey of an additional twelve light-years—a journey we can’t undertake until we complete repairs. I want to know how you’re going to speed up repairs.”
Gallant frowned . . . Will she ever stop second guessing my motivation, or resolve?
He said, “Chief Howard has some ideas for expediting repairs. I expect him shortly.” He showed her a material and parts’ list, as well as a preliminary schedule.
A knock at his door brought them what they were waiting for.
“Enter.”
Chief Howard looked at them askance.
Gallant said, “Lights,” and all the cabin lights switched on.
Howard said, “Sir, I have the revised damage and repair recommendations for your review.”
Howard laid out the basic situation. He said, “The sub-light engines are in a sad state. The reactors have suffered some core melt problems due to excessive temperature and that could mean extensive heavy duty repairs. The stealth technology was not damaged directly, but a number of support systems were damaged by plasma fire and they have to be replaced. We still don’t have a replacement stealth Wasp craft for the mission, unless the Achilles turns up. General damage to the ship’s hull includes several small hull leaks which are currently isolated, but will require serious patch work until we get to a shipyard. As for those who sustained radiation sickness, or battle injuries, about half can return to duty within a week, the rest will take several more weeks, and two individuals will have to be discharged to a long term medical facility on Elysium.”
He paused to reflect on what more there was. “Perhaps we can get replacements and spare parts from the Achilles when she arrives. The weapons repairs include several lasers and one plasma cannon. The FASER will be good as new as soon as we can repair its power source, but again we will require the help of the Achilles for that. Hopefully, Elysium will turn their mining, fabrication and production facilities to our use to help accomplish the many tasks. As to a schedule, my most optimistic estimate is, if we get lots of assistance from the Achilles and the colonists, we can be ready for our mission in two months. Otherwise it will be three months or more.”
Howard concluded, “Sorry, sir, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it is, what it is.”
Gallant looked expectantly at McCall.
“Thank you, chief. I believe that’s all I needed to know,” she said and without ceremony she left.
Gallant spent an additional hour with Howard running AI simulations to optimize the scheduled repairs against personnel and available spare parts. When they were done he was well pleased with their effort.
“Thank you, Chief. Please get started on the initial items immediately. I will be unavailable for a short period. I’m taking the shuttle to the planet to put our needs before the Elysium governing council.”
And I hope to see a certain someone.
CHAPTER 2
Aliana
Alaina Hepburn strolled across the walkway, smack-dab in the middle of Halo’s well-manicured verdant garden park with its centrally located water fountain and bronze statues, all glistening under a late summer sun. Everyone who passed offered her a warm greeting—for she was well-known to the people of Elysium. However, it wasn’t her eye-catching yellow suit and short skirt, or her radiant vitality, that captured the attention of those around her—nor was it her long rich golden hair, blazing blue eyes, or well-tanned skin—and her behavior wasn’t so unusual so as to stir excitement. No, what attracted the most curiosity was her bearing—shoulders back, head high—which led one to wonder what adventure she’d just completed, or better yet, was about to embark on.
When Gallant entered the park, seeing Alaina again, struck him like a jolt. His memory was not proven false—time had not diminished the young woman’s beauty. His reaction was unlike what might be expected from the methodical logical captain who so recently had fought a battle from the bridge of the Warrior. Now he was simply a man rediscovering his lover—filled with the joy of her presence, the relief of her safety, and the sensuality of her being—however the emotional tizzy, seething beneath the surface, was enough to cause the fringes of his vision to grow hazy, excluding all others from sight. And as her high heeled shoes clicked on the stone footpath, they made a distinctive sound that he focused on. A sense of excitement flooded over him, creating the desire to immediately seize hold of her. Despite his wish to run, he strode calmly along the intersecting causeway.
When she noticed him, she came to an abrupt stop. As she turned to face him, her surprise couldn’t have been more pronounced. He could only guess that her emotional state was as elevated as his own.
Any passerby might have assumed that they were two acquaintances meeting casually to exchange friendly greetings, but his heart was pounding and his palms were moist. A gust of wind blew a tangled lock of hair across his forehead which he swiped away absentmindedly.
“Henry!” she said.
Her exclamation was short and sharp, giving him a start. As invariably happened, he fell under her mesmerizing spell, stammering, “I . . ., I . . ., I said, ‘I’d be back.’”
Bridging the remaining gap between them in a few bounding steps, he reached out to put his arms around her, but she put her arms up and held him back.
“I thought you were dead!” She exclaimed with a look on her face that could only be an emotional cocktail of flustered rattled confusion.
Gallant remained transfixed. He had hoped her first reaction would have been to throw her arms around him. However, he would have understood if she had reacted furiously and yelled about how he had left her in limbo. What he wasn’t prepared for was the cold hard stare she focused upon him instead.
With a distinct chill, she said, “I’ve had no word from you for nearly a year.”
“That wasn’t my choice.”
He searched for some soothing words. “I’ve thought of you every day we’ve been apart.”
They stood frozen for what seemed a long time while she made up her mind whether to forgive him.
Gallant had lost his parents as a child. His last relative, his grandmother, passed away during his first year at the academy—making him pretty much a loner most of his life—leaving him mystified by relationships and often questioning . . .
Why is love so bewildering?
Instead, he asked, “Maybe you’re not ready to forgive me, but can we be friends while you consider it?”
A million nanoseconds flittered by, and then, finally, she relented and smiled—a genuine smile.
The warmth of that smile felt great. It made him a little weak in the knees and he drew a deep breath.
“You haven’t changed,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Why didn’t you at least send word you were on the Warrior?”
“I wanted to face you when you found out.”
“Henry, I have to take this slow. I don’t know exactly how I feel about you anymore.”
“Slow? Anymore? What do you mean?” He blushed and touched his cheek as if her rhetorical slap had been physical.
“I mean, we need to get reacquainted.”
What was clear was that before they could rediscover the passion they had once shared, he would have to give her time.
How much time?
Her expression struck him as unfamiliar and Gallant considered the possibility that she had discerned his inner turmoil and its cause, making him feel somewhat exposed, until he realized that he was projecting his own anxiety.
He gathered his composure once more. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Stop being pigheaded, Henry.”
“Actually, you once said that ‘pigheaded’ was one of my more endearing qualities.”
She put her hand over her mouth to suppress a chuckle, but she immediately regretted it and the frown returned.
He could see storm clouds in her eyes. Levity was not the answer—a new tactic was needed. He said, “Alright Alaina. Slow it is. I’ll behave, I promise. Let’s get together tomorrow. Spend a little time to get reacquainted, as you suggest. Perhaps, we could go for a hike in the jungle?” he said, alluding to their past adventures.
Immediately picking up on the implied intimacy, she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Come to my house for dinner this weekend.”
“Great,” he said. But his mind was already imagining a boat trip to a neighboring island and a picnic on the beach.
She waited for a moment and then got to the business of why they were both on this walkway in the middle of Halo. She said, “As leader of the council, I’m heading to the town hall to greet the captain of the Warrior on behalf of Elysium to thank him for his help against the Titans.”
“Then you’re in luck, Madam President. You’ve found him.”
“You?”
“Yes. Shall we walk together? I’m sure the council members will wish to discuss the recent battle and its repercussions.”
Her face turned gray and she said thoughtfully, “The political balance here has shifted a great deal since you left.” From her posture and pained expression, he sensed there was more going on than he was aware of.
Commander Henry Gallant (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 4) Page 3
